


In the midst of a heavy rain

by BladeoftheNebula



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All the best Regency Cliches, Alternate Universe - Regency, Future Lord Tony, Getting Together, Historical, Kid Fic, M/M, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Precious Peter Parker, Romance, Superfamily, Teacher Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladeoftheNebula/pseuds/BladeoftheNebula
Summary: “Do you know where Mr Rogers is?”Peter hummed. “He took his refreshment with him. He said he was going for a walk and would return for our next lesson.”That was very strange. If Peter was correct, then Mr Rogers had been on his walk for more than two hours. Tony couldn’t for the life of him work out why he would plan such a long constitutional when he knew Peter would be waiting for his afternoon lesson.He strode across to the window and looked out over the grounds. It looked like it might rain.Or Steve takes a walk that ends nearly in disaster and absolutely in a confession.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 71
Kudos: 295





	In the midst of a heavy rain

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tar for the beta! ❤️❤️❤️

Tony stepped into the room and frowned. “Peter?”

His son continued playing with his miniature theatre. “Yes, Papa?”

“Shouldn’t you be doing your study?” He looked over at the bronze clock on the mantle. It was well past the luncheon break Peter usually took, normally he’d be back at his desk listening to his tutor, Mr Rogers. 

And perhaps the man had been the focus of Tony’s visit to the room where Peter took his lessons, if he were honest, and maybe he’d brought with him a book he knew Mr Rogers would enjoy simply to watch his eyes light up in happiness. 

But that plan was dashed now, for he was nowhere to be seen. Odd, he was usually punctual. 

Peter shook his head, brown curls tumbling into his eyes. He’d need his hair cut soon. “Mr Rogers isn’t here. How would I know what to learn?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I am sure you could find your book of french verbs on your own.”

Peter ducked his head fussing with his little paper dolls intently. “I do not know where it is.”

“I see,” Tony said, unconvinced. “Well, I expect you will be more careful with your equipment in the future.” But he couldn’t help but be amused. He leaned down and ruffled Peter’s hair, the child laughing in delight. 

“Do you know where Mr Rogers is?”

Peter hummed. “He took his refreshment with him. He said he was going for a walk and would return for our next lesson.”

That was very strange. If Peter was correct, then Mr Rogers had been on his walk for more than two hours. Tony couldn’t for the life of him work out why he would plan such a long constitutional when he knew Peter would be waiting for his afternoon lesson.

He strode across to the window and looked out over the grounds. It looked like it might rain. 

“I am going to see if I can find him. If he returns, tell him to let Jarvis know.”

“Yes Papa,” Peter replied, making one of the dolls walk across the small stage. “If he is not too busy making his eyes all big at you.” He brought his hands up to his face and uncurled them, miming big eyes.

Tony spluttered. “Excuse me, young man! I think you know better than to speak about your teacher like that.”

“Does not mean it’s untrue,” Peter muttered under his breath. 

“I think you had better hold your tongue if you want dessert.”

Peter fell silent very quickly. “That’s what I thought. Now, you behave yourself while I see what has befallen Mr Rogers.”

He walked out into the hall, shaking his head. He wondered where the child had gotten that notion. 

Mr Rogers wasn’t interested in him like that. It had become clear to Tony that Mr Rogers’ attention was elsewhere much to his bitter disappointment. 

He suspected any day now, Mr Rogers would come to his study, not to take tea with him as he looked forward to everyday, but tell him he had accepted a proposal and would be taking his leave. 

And Tony would be forever heartbroken.

* * *

Of all the foolish decisions. 

Steve struggled to his feet, yelping as his ankle gave way and he tumbled to the ground. He’d only meant to go for a nice walk, get some fresh air and get Mr Stark’s handsome face out of his mind. 

The gentleman was insufferable. 

Always interrupting his lessons to lark about, and bringing him novels, and ensuring the cook made him the scones he liked for his luncheon. And the day before hadn’t helped. 

He had been teaching Peter scales on the _pianoforte_ , when Mr Stark had come in, fresh from a meeting with his banker - which Steve only knew about because the man had spent breakfast whining about the inconvenience - and perched himself on the bench beside them. 

When Steve had begun a simple tune, Mr Stark had tapped his long fingers along the keys with him, accompanying him perfectly, Peter in the middle humming along. It had been...rather enchanting. 

But it was ridiculous. He was a tutor, Mr Stark was the son of a lord, and having any thought other than that the man was an annoyance was dangerous. 

So when he had finished going through their maths lesson this morning, he’d slipped away for a moment of peace and reflection, walking along the wilds on the estate. He did love it here. 

Starlight Estate had been the summer home of the Starks for generations, taken over by the son of the current Lord on the occasion of his marriage. Strangely, even after the tragic early death of his wife, Mr Stark had remained with his son instead of returning to the family home, and it was to this situation that Steve arrived. 

Steve had worked in several houses, with a number of children born into wealth, and although he often bonded with them, their parents usually remained aloof. They were kind enough to him, treated him well and gave him nice accommodations, but rarely was he more than a guest. Not so in the Stark household. Instead, he ate dinner with Mr Stark and Peter every night in the smaller dining room, and more often than not, Jarvis joined them making them a very merry party. When Peter was sent to bed, unless he had business calling him away, they would spend the evening playing cards or sitting in simple companionship as they read.

He grunted as he tried to move, the pain shooting up his leg. The clouds rumbled above him and he cursed loudly. And now he was going to get rained on. 

He huffed. Just his luck.

* * *

Tony walked the kitchen gardens, and then came out onto the lawn. 

He scanned the area trying to spot any flash of colour or movement that might indicate the presence of his wayward tutor, but there was nothing. 

There was a jolt of lightning across the sky as the dark clouds moved ever closer. He could feel a prickle of worry working its way up his spine as the first few droplets of rain began to fall.

If he got caught in the rain, he would no doubt catch cold. Despite Jarvis’ best efforts, Rogers was still as slight as when he’d first arrived at the estate. 

_The door to his study opened and Tony looked up to see Jarvis standing in the doorway. “Sir? Mr Rogers is here.”_

_“Finally. Well don’t delay Jarvis, send him in.”_

_He hoped this would be the last meeting he had with a potential tutor. Trying to find someone who could keep up with his son’s intellect and energy was a formidable challenge, and so far none had completed the work to Tony’s satisfaction and been ejected from the position forthwith._

_The door opened again, and this time it wasn’t Jarvis._

_Instead it was a man around his age, though somewhat petite. He was fair, light golden hair with pretty blue eyes that burned with a fire that Tony didn’t yet understand._

_He found he very much wanted to._

_“Ah, Mr Rogers. Thank you for coming.” He stood from his desk, walking around so he could bow._

_Mr Rogers returned the gesture. “Mr Stark, thank you for considering me for the position.”_

_Tony gestured to a chair, and took a seat himself. “As we have discussed in our correspondence, my son, Peter, is a gifted child who needs someone who can foster his intelligence and prepare him to one day take over the estate.” He picked up one of the books on his desk. “He and I have been going through the latest scientific texts, and of course mathematics, so I would prefer that you continue to focus on these subjects. Really, these are the only topics that I’m concerned with, so you need not cover anything else.”_

_“Absolutely not,” the man replied, looking agitated._

_“I beg your pardon?” Tony asked, surprised at the vehemence of the response._

_“Mr Stark, you have brought me here to ensure your son grows up a well-rounded young man. If you think that I would neglect the arts and languages then you have another thing coming, sir.”_

_“Well, of course, the arts are excellent,” Tony tried to placate him. “I just feel that those...less erudite subjects may not be the best use of your time.”_

_Mr Rogers huffed. “Music and reading are some of the greatest pleasures in life, and a sign of accomplishment. No child I teach will come out of their schooling without a healthy appreciation for both.”_

_“Mr Rogers--”_

_“Mr Stark,” the other man said his face marred with a frown. “I do not expect to repeat myself. I have made my terms clear and you may either offer me employment or not at your discretion.”_

_Tony found himself a little lost for words. No one spoke to him like this except for perhaps his friend Rhodes who owned the nearby estate and they had been friends since they were boys. It was somewhat refreshing. Perhaps this was exactly the sort of attitude Peter needed to focus on his lessons._

_Couldn’t hurt to try._

_“Indeed,” Tony agreed. “In which case, if the wages and living situation is to your liking, you may start immediately.”_

_Mr Rogers looked taken aback. “I--uh. Yes. If you could inform me of the terms of my employment I can make my decision.”_

_Tony smiled and handed him a document he had prepared for the meeting. “Excellent. While you mull that over, I’ll have Jarvis send through some tea.”_

He’d been right of course. Peter had taken well to the arts as much as his other lessons, though he still hated French grammar. Mr Rogers kept him in check, firm but fair and with a level of kindness Tony hadn’t found in the previous tutors he’d hired. Mr Rogers seemed to adore Peter almost as much as Tony did, and he would often find them laughing and playing as they learned.

Mr Rogers was charming, there was no other word for it. He was witty, well-read, a talented artist, and highly opinionated. Tony couldn’t think of many things he enjoyed more than watching him become alight with passion as he argued his point, unafraid of speaking to those with higher status. 

Of late, however, Tony had become aware of an...attachment. It had started without his notice at first. 

Mr Rogers was of course free to come and go as he pleased from the estate when he wasn’t teaching, so he would often take a walk to town. It was on one such walk that Tony himself had business in town and had ridden to meet with the banker. 

He had finished his meeting and walked out onto the street, deciding to take in some air before returning to his horse. As he wandered past, he caught sight of Mr Rogers sitting on a bench near the churchyard. Thinking he might say hello, or perhaps offer to escort him home, he made to walk over but as he approached, someone else appeared, stopping him in his tracks.

Mr Rogers stood excitedly greeting a man in a bright soldier’s uniform. They knew each other, the man’s touch on his shoulder far too familiar for an ordinary acquaintance. 

His deductions were confirmed when the two embraced and Tony felt his heart sink.

Of course Mr Rogers would have a beau. He was beautiful, kind and undeniably a wit. Though what this soldier had done to earn his charms Tony couldn’t fathom. He turned on his heel and left, being careful not to be seen. His mood had taken an unpleasant turn.

From then on, he knew from Jarvis that the soldier called by the estate to visit with some regularity. Tony never saw him. He found himself taken into town for business, or out inspecting the estate whenever Jarvis informed him of the soldier’s arrival. He may have accepted his heartbreak, but that didn’t mean he was up to the task of basking in it in his own home. 

So now he waited. Waited to be told Mr Rogers was to be married and would be leaving he and Peter alone in his big empty house, with no one to keep him company or keep his son smiling so often. 

Tony sighed, rubbing over his chest at the ache that lay there. Of course that would mean nothing if something had happened to the man. He could see no trace of him, and decided to fetch his horse and go further afield. It would be faster and he could cover more distance.

As he swung himself into the saddle he felt the first patter of raindrops against his face. He felt the worry deepen. He’d better make haste.

* * *

Steve grit his teeth as he slowly made his way back. The rain had started to fall now, heavy and cold, and he felt the shivers wrack his body. He hated it, the feeling like that of when he was a child, ill with fever and shakes, his mother unsure if he’d live to see the dawn. He didn’t get so sick as often now, though when he did he was usually down for a few days. He cursed as he thought of how to explain to Mr Stark that he’d gotten ill from his own foolishness and Peter’s lessons would no doubt have to be delayed. 

It felt all the more foolish now that he’d walked so far to escape Mr Stark and his kindness and charm. If Steve didn’t already know he was an incredibly unattractive match, Mr Stark’s expression at seeing him weak and sickly would no doubt do the trick. Steve was under no illusions that Mr Stark would ever want him.

He remembered the moment he realised what the feeling in his chest was, and it brought him warmth to recall it even now. He and Peter had been taking lessons outdoors, sketching birds in the woodland near the house. He’d heard someone curse loudly, and quickly dropped his sketchbook as Peter had darted off to see the source. 

They come across a farm accident. One of the tenant, Mr Hogan Steve knew now, had become trapped beneath a loaded carriage. Steve had watched as Mr Stark had appeared, fetched by one of Hogan’s sons, and had lain in mud to take apart the cart with careful precision as the other farmhands had removed the cart's burden. He removed the piece keeping the man trapped and had dragged him out himself, the both of them covered in dirt and Stark had given Hogan his own clean cloak from the back of his horse when the man began to shiver. Everyone had cheered to know the man was safe, including Peter, and Mr Stark had turned at the sound, giving them a cheerful wave when he spotted them on the rise. Steve’s heart had near stopped beating from the beauty of it. This highborn man, fine clothes covered in mud, eyes brightened by the exertion of rescuing someone who others of his status might have left to his fate. From that day, he had only fallen harder with every passing minute. 

How could he even be considered by a man like that? A poor constitution, low birth, and far too opinionated to be anything but a hindrance in Stark’s circle of acquaintances. Steve wouldn’t even have an education if the gentleman his mother worked for, Mr Erskine, hadn't taken a shine to him as a boy and paid for his schooling. Of course, Steve was sure Erskine’s plan was never that Steve fall in love with one of the wealthiest men in the county, and have his heart broken every time he remembered Mr Stark could never love him back. 

He grunted as he hit a sudden uneven patch of ground and his ankle gave way, sending him sprawling into the wet undergrowth. It felt like his whole ankle was on fire and he was afraid to touch it, wary of the pain. He tried to push himself back up but it was no use, the injury meant his right foot couldn’t hold his weight.

Steve felt like he might cry. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming out here. It was freezing, and wet, and he couldn’t walk, and his heart was even sicker than it had been before.

He was stuck.

* * *

Tony gave Dummy a light kick of his heels to urge him on as they shot along the boundary looking for any sign of the wayward tutor. He was starting to get more fearful, if Mr Rogers was not here, then where?

As he searched, he let his mind wander. He thought back to the ball seven days ago, at Rhodes’ estate. He’d invited Mr Rogers under the guise of watching Peter, but really he’d just wanted to see him enjoy himself, let Tony imagine what Mr Rogers would look like in Tony’s life as more than just a tutor. He had been charming, naturally, winning over all the gentlemen and ladies in attendance. 

And they had danced. Tony knew he shouldn’t have, that dancing with someone who could never be yours was like a form of self-flagellation. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. Rhodey often extended an invite to the local militia. If that soldier truly cared for Mr Rogers then he would be here, sweeping him off his feet. 

So he had claimed the first two dances, relishing every brush of the other man’s hand and enjoying the soft intimacy of the dancefloor. It was as though they were the only ones in the room, eyes never leaving the other. They twirled through the other dancers, parting only to be drawn back together as though they were tied together by a string. There would be talk of course, Tony could already see whispers behind a number of fans but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Mr Rogers' gaze on his, his smile, and the spark between them even if it was all on Tony’s part. 

They’d ended up tucked into a corner after, Tony pointing out a few people of interest and telling Steve all the best and most salacious gossip, sending the man into bouts of laughter. 

“--and her you see? There! She slips the ivory chess piece into her pocket. Can’t help herself, does it at every party.”

Steve shook his head in surprise. “Should you not inform Mr Rhodes of the theft of his possessions?”

Tony snorted. “It’s fine, he knows. He swapped all his best pieces for cheaper ones that looked the part and left them in plain view for her.” He nodded his head towards another man in the opposite corner. “Over there, that’s Mr Loki Odinson, second son to Lord Odinson. He tried to marry a young heiress for her fortune, all the while knowing his brother had been courting her. It was a huge scandal, neither brother talking to the other. I imagine his older brother wasn’t unable to attend or he’d never show his face here.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Seems it’s never dull in these circles.” He looked at Tony. “And you, sir? Have you caused a scandal? If it’s not too rude to pry.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his beard. “Not in a long time, no. I was somewhat of a rake in my youth, though that all stopped once I met my dearly departed wife.”

“It must be hard to be without her,” Mr Rogers said, looking sympathetic. 

“It is, though more for Peter than for me. Mrs Stark was...not my choice. Not that she wasn’t a lovely woman, she was, but ours was a match made by our families. There was affection between us but no strong connection. We were both happy to live our lives as friends for the most part, and then it was decided we would try for a child. An heir for the estate and she wanted to be a mother, so it was for both our benefit. Although we were not in love, her loss was still a shock, and a miracle that Peter survived at all.”

“He seems to know a lot about her given they never met,” Mr Rogers said, looking over to where Rhodes was swinging the boy around, making him laugh. “He mentions her fondly often.”

Tony nodded. “I keep her memory alive for him. So that he might know her, even if he is left with me as a poor substitute.”

“You are a good father,” Mr Rogers said firmly. “I have worked with families where the fathers barely took an interest in their children, but you dote on him, listen to him, and make sure he knows he’s loved. It’s very admirable.”

Tony felt a wave of affection. “Thank you. I have struggled since her death to make sure I-- that he knows he is loved.” He gave an awkward smile. “Something that was somewhat less noticeable in my own childhood house.”

“For someone unfamiliar with it, you give the air of someone so practiced, it is as natural as breathing,” Mr Rogers said, his voice a low rumble, and Tony stepped closer to better hear it, the sound pleasing to his ear.

“I thank you for the compliment. And for proving me wrong in my assumption of what would be better for Peter’s education. He is vastly happier by leaps and bounds, and has nothing but praise for his teacher,” Tony said, keeping back the _please don’t leave_ that longed to escape from behind his teeth. “We are both of us lucky to have you.”

Mr Rogers stepped closer too, perhaps the sound of the room making itself known. “I am lucky to have come to Starlight Estate. Teaching Peter is a joy, and one I am happy to have been given the opportunity to have. And of course, the house holds other distractions, ones that perhaps I should not desire as much as I do, but I find I cannot help it. I’m not sure I can--”

He was cut off by the arrival of Mrs Aberforth, a widow herself and one who had long thought herself the next Mrs Stark, despite it being well known Tony had no interest. She claimed him for a dance, and unable to say no without causing offence, all he could do was give Mr Rogers an apologetic smile as he was tugged away. He longed to know the end of the sentence, even though his heart feared what it might be. 

_I’m not sure I can stay._

* * *

Steve shivered where he sat, curled up on the grass.

He was wet through, and tired from trying to walk back, his ankle starting to swell. There was nothing he could do but stay there, hoping the bone-tired feeling might pass and he could try again. 

He could barely feel his fingers as he wrapped them tighter in his coat, the raindrops settling on his lashes. He tried to think of something else, anything to take his mind off the cold, and his head filled with memory, the ball at Mr Rhodes’.

Mr Stark had asked him to a dance, not one but two, ahead of all the other options. When they touched, he’d felt the soft calluses he knew were from repairing equipment for the tenants, a reminder of the man’s kind heart, and the heat from his hand had been like a brand against Steve’s own. They danced in the line, coming together and separating, but intertwined as if drawn together again every time. 

Steve’s heart had been fluttering the whole time, taking in the grace and strength of Mr Stark’s body when he moved, the sparkle in his fine brown eyes and the pleasure he seemed to take in their dance.

And then they’d had a moment, just a small one, where they’d talked, and he’d revealed hidden parts of himself to Steve, and he’d been so close, so close to saying-- well, it was for the best, really, that’s Mrs Aberforth had interrupted, before the delight of the evening had made Steve’s tongue loose in a way he couldn’t take back. 

All of which had let to this moment, where Steve had gone on a fool’s errand to try and forget his feelings, so that he might behave himself and act like the respectable teacher he was instead of losing all sense of propriety every time he heard Mr Stark say--

“Mr Rogers!”

Steve’s head snapped up. That hadn’t been in his head, that had been--

There! He could see a horse approaching with a figure upon it, and as it drew closer he could see exactly who it was and his stomach filled with a horrible mixture of dread and pure relief. 

Mr Stark slid off his horse, face lined with concern as he got near. “What in the devil are you doing? It’s freezing out here.”

Steve wanted to explain but what could he say? His teeth were chattering and at the sound Mr Stark removed his cloak wrapping it around, the warmth of the man’s body still trapped inside. 

“Come, let me…” he tried to pull Steve to his feet, but he shook his head.

“My ankle, I can’t walk.” he managed pitifully, and he expected some exasperation but instead, Mr Stark’s face turned soft.

“I should’ve known. Nothing but a mortal injury could keep you down,” he said, sounding amused and Steve huffed.

“Hardly a mortal injury, just an innate clumsiness.”

“Well no matter. I think I can assist nonetheless.” And that was all the warning Steve got before he was scooped up like a babe, his head coming to rest against the warmth of Mr Stark’s shoulder, securely held in his arms. 

“Mr Stark!” 

“Mr Rogers, please. I am all for propriety, but I think we may suspend it so that I might save you from perishing in this awful weather, don’t you?”

Steve’s thoughts were so far from propriety he could do nothing but nod. All he could think about was Mr Stark’s touch, his strong arms holding him and the thud of his heartbeat under his ear. How he wished that they could do this in other circumstances, perhaps in the drawing-room after dinner, in front of the fire as Mr Stark read aloud for them both. 

But that was absurd thinking, brought on by the cold no doubt. Future Lords did not marry tutors, not outside of the romantic novels Steve was sometimes fond of and he knew it.

As he was carefully placed on the horse, Mr Stark sliding onto the saddle behind him and tugging him back against his chest, an arm around his waist, Steve couldn’t help wishing it were different. 

* * *

Tony rested his head against the wall as he waited outside Mr Roger’s room.

Jarvis had sent for the doctor on his return and he’d taken over getting the man out of his wet clothes and into bed. Tony had fought his own urge to help by going to find Peter who, though undeniably pleased at the prospect of no more lessons for the day, was upset to hear his teacher had been hurt.

“Will the doctor make him better?”

“He will,” Tony assured him, rubbing an affectionate hand through the boy’s hair. “But you’ll have to be good and perhaps do some of your lessons with Jarvis or me for a few days while he rests. Can you do that?”

Peter nodded, his face alight with responsibility. “I can Papa, I can. Can I make Mr Rogers something to make him feel better? I have been practicing my sketches.”

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll enjoy that immensely.”

He’d left Peter to draw, returning to stand vigil outside Mr Rogers’ quarters, awaiting verdict from the doctor. He wondered if he should send for Mr Rogers’ beau, if he might not find it a comfort to have him here. But the selfish part of him knew he could not, that it would hurt too much to see it. 

Instead he waited, and eventually Dr Banner appeared, with a reassuring smile. 

“He’s fine Stark. He has rolled his ankle and there is swelling, but rest will see it healed. He does have a very minor fever, but I believe that too will pass, though call me back if it should get significantly worse.”

“Thank you old friend,” Tony told him gratefully. “Do stay if you'd like. I can have Jarvis serve refreshment..?”

“Very kind, but no. I have other appointments I must make. But I’ll see you for cards at Wilson’s next week?”

“Of course. Let me walk you out.”

He saw the Doctor to the atrium before returning upstairs, a hesitant knock against the door. 

“Come in.”

He entered, and felt a wave of affection at the sight of a grumpy frown on Mr Roger’s face as he lay piled under far too many blankets in the middle of the bed. “How is the patient?”

The scowl deepened. “Dr Banner said I must remain in bed for at least a week.”

Tony smiled. “The Doctor knows best. I assure you Jarvis will make sure you follow his orders to the letter.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need to waste my days lying about.”

“Please,” Tony said, letting a little of his earlier worry seep in. “I was sure something worse had befallen you, and I admit it left me quite shaken.”

Mr Rogers looked a little shamefaced. “I never meant to cause any alarm. I only intended a short walk for my luncheon.”

“Thankfully only a little harm done,” Tony told him kindly. “But since there has been a little harm, perhaps I could persuade you to rest up?”

Mr Rogers heaved a big sigh. “Yes of course. It will just be so dull.”

Now was the time. He could do it. _Courage Stark, courage_. “I’m sure we can keep you entertained. Perhaps...perhaps I could send for your soldier. I’m sure he’ll be worried when he hears the object of his affection took a tumble.” There, that was not so difficult. It almost felt like a relief to say it. Even if relief felt oddly similar to a knife across his skin. 

“Soldier? Oh, you mean Bucky?”

Bucky. Hardly the grand name a rival suitor should have but nonetheless. “Yes. I’m sure he’ll wish to check on you himself. Men in love do not wish to see their beloveds hurt after all.”

Now Mr Rogers looks more confused. “I am sorry. I don’t know what you are talking about. Bucky and I are friends.”

“Yes of course. It’s not official yet, i didn’t mean to assume. Anyway I shall send someone to the village for him. Let me--”

“Mr Stark,” Mr Rogers says and looks at Tony intently. “Although it would of course be nice to see him, I think perhaps you are under a misapprehension. Bucky is my friend, perhaps brother may be more accurate as we grew up together as children. But I have only a familial affection for him, no more.”

Oh. “So we are not expecting a happy announcement anytime soon?”

“Goodness no. No, we are not like that.” The man fidgeted with the blankets. “I had rather hoped that you-- no, nevermind, I am about to make a great fool of myself. Please, don’t pay any attention to me.”

Tony swallowed. “Please. Speak your mind.”

Mr Rogers sighed, looking small and vulnerable and Tony wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms. But he resisted.

“I had rather hoped that perhaps you might make an offer.” It was quiet, barely above a murmur but it sounded so loud in Tony’s ears. “But that...that is ridiculous. You have been kind to me, a good friend and employer, and I mistake your affection for more than it is, I understand that. I walked the grounds today to try and distance myself from my reactions to your presence, but instead I caused you great trouble, and missed Peter’s lessons,” he sniffled a little. “I hope my inappropriate feelings towards you won’t impact your decision to keep me as Peter’s tutor. He is a sweet boy and I would miss him greatly. As would I you, if I had to leave.”

Tony’s heart was pounding in his ears, barely able to believe his ears. “You are in love with me?”

Steve looked at him, chin high in the air, brave even in the face of potential humiliation. “I am.”

Tony let the smile spread over his face as he reached out to take Steve’s hand in his. “Well that is very fortunate. I have been burning with jealousy over a soldier for the past few months when I could have simply said something and put my suffering to rest. If only I had but an ounce of your bravery Mr Rogers.” He lifted Steve’s hand to his mouth, placing a kiss to the knuckles and enjoying the red flush that spread across those gorgeous cheekbones. “I love you. A great deal in fact, and when you are recovered, I would very much like to make you an offer of marriage.”

“Oh,” Mr Rogers said, eyes wide and shiny. “Mr Stark, I’d-- I’d like that very much. Very much indeed.”

“Then we are in agreement,” Tony said, with a cheeky grin and Mr Rogers laughed, still sounding a little overwhelmed. “If I may be so bold, since we are to be engaged, might I be permitted to call you by your Christian name?”

“Of course. Do call me Steve, nothing would please me more.” he looked a little shy then, but determined. “And might I call you Anthony?”

“Tony, please.”

“Even better,” he grinned. “This might be my first almost proposal, but I understand they often come with a show of one’s affection,” his expression turning sly.

Tony chuckled. “Ah yes, I've heard of this, I think I might have just the notion.” And with that, he leaned in, pressing his lips against Steve’s.

Steve sighed into the kiss, and Tony brought a hand up to cradle his jaw, brushing a soft thumb over his cheek. He is pleasantly surprised when he feels one of Steve’s hands against his hip, holding them together as their lips drag pleasingly over each other, lighting a spark between them. Steve in particular seemed to enjoy it, pawing at Tony’s waistcoat, much to Tony’s surprise but immediate delight. His other hand joined it’s partner, holding Steve’s head in place to better ravish him, basking in the soft moans it elicited. Things were getting rather interesting when Steve twitched, the motion jostling his ankle and he broke away with a whimper. 

Tony pulled away, just far enough to press another kiss to Steve’s forehead before he sat up, putting some distance between them. 

“Perhaps that ought to wait until you’re a little better.” He grinned at the distinct pout of Steve’s lip. “Now, since you are bedridden, how about I fetch a book to--” that’s as far as he got before there was a thunder of footsteps in the hall, and Tony had but a moment to catch Peter before he flung himself on Steve’s injured ankle. “Peter! Be careful!”

“Sorry!” Peter said, sounding breathless. “But I had to show Mr Rogers my art!”

Steve smiled, shifting so Peter could sit alongside him and show him the drawing. Tony took in the picture they made, feeling the warmth of knowing this would be their future, the three of them together. And as Steve took his hand, entwining their fingers together with a wink, Tony felt utterly content. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! - if you'd like to leave a comment but don't know what to say, I love emojis!!! ❤️
> 
> Come say hi! Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BladeoftheNebu1)/[Tumblr](https://bladeofthenebula27.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Join the [Put on the Suit (18+) server](https://discord.gg/z5WSqbS) over on discord to hang out with fellow stony fans! It’s a super welcoming community and we have a lot of fun ♥️


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